And in that respect they stir up one another. Fool that I was to part with my lantern! But I'll soon set myself straight. If I did not love you en désespoir, I would assuredly blow off your head. Why do you not go away?’ ‘Yes, do go away,’ begged Gerald. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street.
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